


Dressing up Pretty

by patentpending



Series: 13 Days of no-longer Halloween [7]
Category: Cartoon Therapy (Web Series), Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, Gender Dysphoria, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, posting this almost a year after I wrote it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 14:31:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20658797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patentpending/pseuds/patentpending
Summary: Emile isn’t feeling his best.  Remy helps out.





	Dressing up Pretty

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings: major gender dysphoria, swearing, one singular sexual joke

The Magical Girl dress fell over Emile Picani’s hips with a soft rustle, fluffing out around him. He smiled as he brushed the wrinkles out of the pink silk, marveling at the softness. It was different than his usual fare of cardigans and ties, sure, but if nothing else, Halloween called for the different.

Humming the Steven Universe theme under his breath, he slipped his feet into the delicate kitten heels his husband had helped him pick out. Outside, the sun was slowly sinking; Apollo and Jericho would be expecting them at the party soon.

“Almost ready, babe?” His husband called.

“Just a sec!” He responded, swinging closed the closet door to check his reflection in the mirror.

**No.**

The singular word gripped him and refused to let go. A wave of nausea rose in his throat, clawing its way up with talons and teeth. Goosebumps rose on Emile’s arm, and he pressed a hand into his mouth, tearing his eyes away.

**Wrong,** something he usually managed to keep locked deep in his chest hissed at him insistently. His stomach churned. Suddenly, his skin was feverish, settling wrong on his bones.

“Pull yourself together, Picani,” he muttered weakly, scratching at his arm. Without his consent, his eyes drifted back to the mirror, and he gazed at himself as he would a stranger.

The cheeks were too soft and the hips too round. The chest bulged uncomfortably, and Emile suddenly wanted nothing more than to rush to his dresser and pile on as many binders as he could until he looked like a man again. He curled his hand into a fist, rooting himself in place.

**Bad,** that monster laughed as Emile took in the scrawny line of his arms, so different than men should look. The stranger in the mirror glared at him hatefully, the expression contorting a face too soft, too feminine.

His entire body ached, and he wanted to scream and rip himself out of his skin and into his real body, wherever it was. The stranger in the mirror’s eyes were glossy, face flushed and frame trembling.

“Well,” he muttered vitriolically, swallowing down nausea, “at least I’m pretty.”

“I’ll second that,” a very familiar voice purred, “although I usually say ‘roguishly handsome’.”

Emile caught a glimpse of his husband in the mirror and couldn’t help but smile. Remy was encased in a green playboy bunny suit, complete with fluffy ears, fishnets wrapped over miles of leg, and heels so tall Emile would immediately trip and die if he tried them on. In his hand was his ever-present cup of ‘pumpkin spice seasonal depression’.

“No,” he corrected, “what you usually say is ‘I’ll suck you like a Starbucks straw’.”

Remy grinned unrepentantly. “A guy’s gotta have some variety going on.” He sauntered into the room, hips swaying, and a pang of envy struck Emile before he could help it.

He dragged his eyes over his husband’s frame, considering. All smooth, blunt lines and flat planes - Remy was beautiful. What would it be like to look like that? To be so comfortable in your skin? Remy reached him, wrapping an arm around his waist - **too thin, too small, girly** \- and resting his chin on Emile’s shoulder - **not broad, not strong, _weak_.**

“What?” He teased, breath tickling the shell of Emile’s ear. “Is that mirror more interesting than me in stilettos?”

It only took a second for Emile’s practiced smile to pop back onto his face, and he leaned back into his husband, teeth flashing brightly. “Much like a weirdmageddon occurring in Gravity Falls, nothing could be more interesting than you.”

Remy blinked slowly then frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Emile slammed his smile back up with more force. “What do you mean?”

“Usually, you get all into your feelings when we talk about Gravity Falls.”

“The season finale, while good, left some gaping questions, and_ I miss them so much.”_

“See?” Remy huffed out a sigh, the motion making his bunny ears bob on his head. “So if you don’t get upset, you’re already all emo ‘bout something.” He pressed a kiss to the nape of his husband’s neck. “You really gotta get outta your therapist headspace every once and a while, babe. You don’t always have to be the one to help.”

Emile held the guise for a moment longer - smile too-bright and too-fragile before it broke away. “It just…” Emile clenched his eyes shut, and Remy gently turned him from the mirror.

“What’s wrong, babe? Are you okay?”

“It’s not me,” Emile managed, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. “The problem isn’t me; it’s everyone else.”

For once, Remy was silent, watching his husband through concerned eyes.

“I’m going to wear this dress, and everyone…” He faltered. “Everyone’s going to think I look like a girl.”

Understanding washed over Remy’s face, and he bundled his husband into his arms, murmuring into Emile’s curly hair. “I’m sorry, baby.”

He wrapped his hands around Remy’s shoulders, resting his head against his chest - smooth and flat. “I wish I could hate you right now,” he said softly. “It’d be so much easier if I was mad at someone else. If the problem wasn’t everything.”

“I know,” Remy murmured. “I know.”

“I’m sorry, love.” All of Emile’s muscles turned to jelly, and he slumped into his husband. “You shouldn’t have to deal with my… issues.”

“Hey, I still married you after you made me watch the entirety of Tokyo Mew Mew in one sitting. This is nothing.”

Emile laughed bitterly. “It’s just all wrong.”

Understatement of the century, perhaps, but also very true. He was the right brain in the wrong body, like when he was a child and had put different heads onto different Legos, only now it was all to real. Now it was him. It was hard to see himself sometimes and have to fight down nausea, the words **wrong, no, bad, wrong, wrong, wrong** crawling over him and burrowing into his skin.

“I got the wrong body, and sometimes it feels like I’m never going to be happy in my own skin.”

“But look at you, baby boy!” Remy protested, stepping back and holding him out at arm’s length. “I know this body isn’t the one you were supposed to have, but you’ve done a damn good job with it!”

Emile blinked at him. “What?”

“Look at all the awesome stuff this body has!” He tapped his fingers against Emile’s nose lightly. “Damn sexy freckles.” His hand moved on to run through Emile’s hair. “The cutest curls in all of human existence.” He gently brushed his thumb at the corner of Emile’s lash line. “Drop-dead _gorgeous_ eyes.” He lifted Emile’s hand and kissed the scar on his thumb. “A history of our misadventures.”

“I still can’t believe you messed up our proposal that badly.”

“I’m here to be a good husband, not to get attacked!” Remy gasped indignantly, turning up his nose, and Emile laughed.

Remy softened, turning back to him. “And hear that? Ugh, that’s the best sound in the world.” He kissed the corner of his mouth, lingering just long enough to let Emile taste pumpkin spice. “I love the way you laugh, Emile. Like you couldn’t give a damn what the world thinks.” He smirked. “And lord knows that mouth is good for kissing.”

“Remy!” Emile laughed, swatting at him. “You fiend!”

“And my favorite part.” He pressed a kiss to Emile’s forehead. “_Such_ a good brain. You help people every day, baby. No matter what your body’s like, you are Emile Picani, and he’s the best man I know.”

Emile’s eyes fogged over, and he buried his head in Remy’s shoulder, throwing his arms around his neck.

“What are you doing down there? Oh, _he-ell_ no. Your eyeliner is way too snatched for you to start crying right now.”

It was enough to startle a laugh out of Emile, and he looked up, blinking away the fogginess in his eyes. “It’s just… hard sometimes.”

“I know, baby boy.” Remy hugged him just a little closer. “I know.” He smirked; Emile could feel the motion of warm lips against his cheek. “I bet you’d be ten types of freaking if one of your patients told you they were getting reassurance from a green playboy bunny.”

Emile laughed, too soft, perhaps, but just a little better than before. “It _is_ just a bit hard to take you seriously in the rabbit ears.”

“Don’t worry, baby.” Remy kissed the tip of his nose, fishing out his phone. “I’ll call Jericho and tell him we can’t make it.”

“No!” Emile burst out, and Remy paused, an eyebrow arched as his finger hovered over the call button.

“You sure? He’s used to me flaking on plans; we’re good to go. We could always take a nap,” he cajoled.

“But I…” He paused, steeling himself. “I _want_ to go. Like, you know that scene in Avatar: the Last Airbender where Aang insists on going into the fire nation to master firebending, even though all of his friends think it’s a terrible idea?”

“Obvs.”

“Well, that’s me right now.” He set his jaw resolutely.

Remy lowered his sunglasses, squinting. “Babe, are you implying that Apollo’s house is the fire nation?”

Emile huffed a laugh, reaching up to fiddle with his glasses. “My _head_ is the fire nation, love.”

“Then let’s get you outta there, huh?” Remy pressed a kiss to his temple. “Let’s go that party, kick some major ass, and be the power couple Brian and Harvey wish they could be, m’kay?”

Emile managed a smile. “Okay.”

Remy hesitated for a moment. “Do you want to change?”

Emile smoothed down the pink ruffles of his skirt. “Actually… no.” His smile shifted into something more sure. “I think I’m okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there, my lovely Cowards!
> 
> Since the spooky season is nearly upon us again, I figured now was a good time to finish posting the 13 days of Halloween series I did LAST year. I'm great at time management. This one wasn't really my favorite (not really solid with my Emile characterization?) but I hope you enjoyed regardless! 
> 
> Also, I wanted to poll the audience: would you be interested in a short-ish (maybe 15-20k who knows) ~spooky story~ for halloween this year, or would you rather I focus on updating Kill the Lights and The Princey Bride? I'm teetering between the options and wanted to hear what y'all think.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the lovely art by the equally lovely @starry-shake [here](https://starry-shake.tumblr.com/post/179397878234/13-days-of-halloween-day-six-costumes-also-known), and, as always, if you see a typo please gently and kindly correct me-
> 
> nah kidding ROAST ME, YOU COWARDS


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